


In The Absence Of Rules

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Bandom, Disney RPF, Panic At The Disco
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-19
Updated: 2011-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicole the wedding planner enjoys fighting with Spencer, the best man handling all the details of his friend's wedding, almost as much as she enjoys fucking him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Absence Of Rules

**Author's Note:**

> So the same night we find out a bandom wedding is coming, Nicole tweeted she'd be a wedding planner if she wasn't an actress. Obviously I couldn't let that go.
> 
> Most of the credit for this goes to FlakeOfEmerald, who twitficced the basic idea with me and got me all inspired to work on the concept as an actual fic. Many thanks to verbosewordsmith and la_dissonance for looking it over for me, and extra to la_dissonance for the title!

Nicole’s second least favorite words in the entire universe are, “you’ll mostly be working with our best man, we trust him.” What that usually means is she’ll be dealing with someone who’s either so sure of his own excellent taste or so anxious about not letting his friends and/or relatives down he’ll absolutely refuse to listen to any ideas but his own. This job is fun when she gets to work with people and compromise, but when there’s no compromise involved it’s fucking awful (and of course, the best man is never the one who has to deal with the fallout when the bride and groom hate something).

Those are the second words Brendon says to her when she meets with him and his bride-to-be.

Her absolute least favorite words are, “I have a lot of really great ideas.” Those are the first words Spencer, Brendon’s best man, says to her at the same meeting. This is a pretty high-profile job, and the word-of-mouth could make or break Nicole right now; she’s eaten through her startup loan, she’s barely breaking even, and she’d probably be done already if Chelsea hadn’t agreed to play assistant when Nicole needed her for whatever Nicole could afford to pay. She can’t afford to fuck this up, and she can’t afford to turn them away, so she smiles and tries as hard as she can to make, “I’m sure you do, and I’d love to hear them. When are you free?” sound as genuine as possible.

*

“No,” Nicole says, “that would look stupid.”

“Your face looks stupid,” Spencer says, and it’s the first time he hasn’t been pretending to be some kind of professional adult in front of her; Nicole shouldn’t laugh, maybe, but they’ve been arguing for the entirety of their hour-long meeting and she’s stressed as fuck and your mom jokes aren’t funny except for how they’re hilarious.

At least Spencer laughs, too, and when Nicole finally scrubs her hands over her face and manages to calm herself down, he’s giving her the first genuine smile she’s seen out of him. It’s a little dazzling, which is as good an excuse as any to say yes when he asks her out to dinner.

*

“Sarah was thinking roses,” Spencer says. “Like, I know she said not too traditional, but - “

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this? I specifically remember you asking me out for a non-working dinner.”

“Sorry,” Spencer says. Sheepish is a good look on him. Really, everything is a good look on him, he’s all long limbs and freckles and stupidly shiny hair, but - yeah.

“It’s okay,” Nicole says. “I just really want to take you home after dinner, and if we spend the whole time arguing about flowers, the mood might get a little…aggressive.”

Spencer takes a long sip of his wine; when he responds, there is absolutely no mistaking the look in his eyes, no possible way to assume she misread at any point. “Your taste in everything is horrible,” he says, “and you should tell me why it isn’t so I can argue with you at length.”

*

Spencer grabs her hips and holds her still so he can fuck up into her, which, shit, basically everyone Nicole knows is bigger than her but she fucking loves when someone take advantage of it. Thing is, as he does it he says, “I’ve been thinking, and maybe you were right about the seating chart,” and apparently he thinks the way she moaned had something to do with that.

“You like that?” he asks, digs his fingers in so hard she’s sure she’ll have bruises tomorrow. “Get you hot when I agree with you?’

Nicole rolls her eyes and scrapes her fingernails down his chest, angry pink lines following in their wake. “Your seating chart ideas were always stupid,” she says, and reaches back up to scrape over his nipples. He shouts, and she can feel him coming in the condom.

“You like that? I know you love when I tell you how stupid you are, baby.”

Spencer growls and rolls them over; by the time he switches from tickling her to fingering her, her stomach hurts from laughing.

*

“I bet you twenty bucks you can’t,” she says, and that’s the end of the discussion; Spencer gets his cock out, sits in her chair, and reaches for the phone. There’s a certain kind of guy who never says no to a bet, which is an excellent thing to know if you’re the kind of person who needs a trump card to get a midday quickie.

Nicole goes easy on him at first, just jerks his cock slowly and presses soft kisses to the head while he gets hard in her hand. He greets the person on the other end of the line right, which is something he forgets sometimes even when he’s supposed to be in his right mind (the last time she let him place an order, he didn’t bother to explain who “Spencer Smith” was, what company he was with, what wedding he wanted the candles for, until he was asked), so she figures he’s probably feeling good enough about his chances.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hisses, when she takes him down as far as she can, and she pulls off with a slick pop.

“Put it on speaker,” she says, “so I’ll know if you offend them, or whatever.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, so she presses another wet kiss right to the tip of his cock and tries not to look too smug when he bites his lip. She probably fails, but whatever, Spencer hits the button for speakerphone so she can focus on his cock without straining to hear the tinny voice of the florist through the handset.

Which is good, because Spencer has a fucking gorgeous cock, and Nicole’s never hated giving head but she’s never been quite as into it as she is with him. It’s fucking - he’s so thick, hot and heavy on her tongue, and so fucking responsive. She bobs her head a couple times, getting him slick, then focuses on the head just to hear his breath hitch. He’s doing okay (asked for cream instead of white roses, but that’s awesome, because she’s been pushing for cream), but she knows how he gets, knows she can do better.

“Oh shit,” Spencer says, “yeah,” and tangles the fingers of his free hand in her hair. Nicole pokes her tongue into his slit again, because he’s started leaking precome and he tastes so fucking good. “No,” he says, talking to the florist, not to her, “sorry, I just remembered I forgot something.”

His voice breaks on ‘forgot’, and Nicole doesn’t grin because she’d have to stop sucking quite so hard at the head of his cock, but she totally smiles inside. Spencer’s fingers tighten in her hair, too tight - _good_ too tight - and his hips start twitching, like he really wants to fuck her face - shit, she’d _love_ for him to fuck her face right now - but he can’t without losing the control he needs to keep talking. It’s so - he’s wound so tight, and she wants to - to fucking break him, watch him shatter apart.

Spencer lets out a shaky breath when she starts jerking him off; she can’t go down on him more than she is, can’t take him down her throat, because he’s holding her hair so tightly. He _wants_ her to keep teasing him like this, keep lapping up his precome and sucking on the head and - shit, if he doesn’t come before he finishes with the florist she’s going to get him to bend her over the desk because - shit, she needs to get off.

“Thank you,” he says, “you’ve been wonderful. Have a great day.” There isn’t a full second between him hanging up and his come flooding her mouth, hips bucking so much he knocks her back a bit and ends up coming over her swollen lips.

“Rude,” she says, but that’s fucking hot as hell, she loves when he does that.

“Yeah, sorry. Wanna try and earn back your twenty?”

Spencer lifts her onto the desk and eats her out like someone’s going to give him a gold medal if he performs well enough; he sucks on her clit like his life depends on it until she comes before anyone’s even answered the phone, then fingers her too slow and unfocused to get her off while she clutches his hair and tries to remember what kind of lollipops Sarah had wanted for favors.

*

Nicole is absolutely not unprofessional enough to fuck a client in the public bathroom of one of her favorite caterers, except Spencer spends the half-hour they’re kept waiting leaning in close, whispering to her about how much he loved getting fucked last night, how he’s still sore but he fucking loves it, how he wishes she’d stayed over because it would have been so much better to fuck her in the shower that morning than to jerk off thinking about it. Spencer is stupidly hot, and has a stupidly effective dirty mouth, and Nicole is only human. Only a human who has her hot…whatever Spencer is to her…running his hand up and down her thigh while they try the lobster bisque, then excusing himself to the bathroom with a meaningful look her way when the waiter clears their bowls away.

It’s fucking worth it, anyway, Spencer lifts her up on the counter and wastes no time getting two fingers into her cunt, kissing her sloppy-wet and desperate. He gets her off, he always gets her off - he fucking loves it, he says, loves the way she’s so fucking sensitive after she comes, so needy for more - and he’s just rolling on the condom when the door opens.

“Oh! I didn’t - excuse me,” Jason, the waiter, says, like he did something wrong walking into a public bathroom in his workplace. He backs out, and Nicole thunks her forehead on Spencer’s shoulder.

“I thought you made sure the door locked,” she says.

“I didn’t - there’s, like, nobody here. Oh my God, we can’t use them now.”

“What?” Nicole lifts her head up. Spencer’s blushing bright red, another thing that isn’t really a bad look for him. “Yeah, we kind of have to.”

“No fucking - “

“Spencer. Oh my God. I have to work with them again, they’re super popular and I have an excellent relationship, which is good for my business, and if we fuck in their bathroom and then decide they’re not good enough my name will be shit here.”

“I didn’t - why do you have to be so hot,” Spencer says, while he tosses the condom in the trash - giving his cock what Nicole would describe as an almost _mournful_ look - and zips his pants up.

“You’re the one who was pushing for this,” Nicole says, and lets him help her off the counter. She can’t be too upset, at least she actually got off.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who fucked me so hard I can’t forget it.”

“You fucking bet I did.”

All in all, the rest of the meal isn’t as awkward as it could be, even if Spencer’s hand finds its way back to her thigh less than a minute after they sit down and doesn’t leave until they’re ready to go.

*

Spencer gets affectionate after sex, kisses her skin anywhere he can reach before settling in to cuddle her, usually with a few more kisses before he’s ready to fall asleep or let her get up to go back to her place. It’s sweet, although it might be sweeter if he hadn’t been doing it since the first time they slept together; it’s different if he just likes to kiss people he fucks than if he likes to kiss _her_.

He goes down on her after he fucks her, then kisses his way up her stomach to her lips, kisses her deep and thorough while she can still taste herself on his lips. He’s so - there’s less than a week left of this, the wedding’s Saturday, and she doesn’t - whatever. It’s been good. Not so good she won’t institute a personal rule about not fucking clients, but good.

“They love what you’ve done,” he says, as he tucks himself against her side, face nestled in the curve of her neck. “Everything I’ve shown them, they’ve been all ‘oh yeah, she’s so right, all your ideas were totally crap’.”

“Yeah? Good. Well not - all your ideas aren’t _crap_. But it’s - this is weird, I’ve hardly had any contact with them at all.”

“Mm,” Spencer kisses her neck; she used to hate beards, but she loves the way his tickles. “They’re both really chill people, until something’s important, and then they turn into freaky perfectionists. I’ve had to, like, ration wedding talk to keep them sane.”

“You’re a good friend,” Nicole says, runs her fingers through his hair because she can, because it’s Wednesday and the rehearsal dinner’s Friday and at best she’ll be able to get one more meeting and a quickie in her office out of this, so she has to take advantage of these kinds of opportunities while they’re possible.

“So, um, I - do you wanna come?”

“To the wedding? That’s not really how it works, but I’d love some photos, and - “

“No.” Spencer sits up a little so he can look down at her. “Like, do you want to come as Nicole, my hot date I want to show off to all my friends? And, like, you’re welcome to come to the rehearsal dinner with me, too, unless that’s too short notice.”

“Oh! I - oh,” Nicole says, and tugs him down to kiss her. He obliges, but not for long, making this the first time she’s ever known Spencer to be the one who decides enough kissing has happened.

“Is that - that’s a yes, right?”

“Yes,” she says, “moron,” and pulls him down so he can kiss her again.


End file.
